


Ticklish

by bruinsand1d22



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:29:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruinsand1d22/pseuds/bruinsand1d22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A filler for what they didn't show in S3x6. Definitely OOC moments and too much fluff, but there is never a bad time for Gallavich fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticklish

They were halfway through their 3rd movie; remnants of pizza bites strewn next to their feet which were propped up on the coffee table, cigarette butts and half-full beer bottles littering the couch around them. Mickey’s eyes were sore from a combination of weed and staring the at the TV for too long, his butt numb and body tired, yet he was the happiest he’d been in awhile. And even though he would never verbally admit it, his uncharacteristically good mood had everything to do with the boy pressed next to him on the couch. Ian had his head leaned back, his body slouched down from hours of old movies. Every now and then he would snort out a laugh in reaction to the screen, and Mickey would sneak a glance at the way Ian’s shoulders flexed against his tee shirt.

Ian pretended not to notice Mickey’s eyes, or how he would use reaching for the remote as an excuse to lie back next to Ian so their shoulders touched. When Mickey had flinched at an explosion in one of the movies, one of those gory ones with a lot of screaming and ripped off skin, Ian had instinctively grabbed his knee in comfort, fully expecting to be shoved away. The complaint didn’t come, and Ian relaxed his fingers over Mickey’s thigh, feeling Mickey move into the touch. Mickey had his bottom lip in his teeth, watching the way Ian’s fingers danced in patterns on his leg, trying hard to contain the feeling that stirred from the small touch. The movie continued, and Mickey’s hand found its way over Ian’s, fingers slotting easily over each other. Mickey stole another glance at Ian, a hint of pride filling him at the resulting smile plastered on the red-head’s face from such a small gesture. Their hands stayed put as the movie played out, and Ian tried not to burst with happiness when he felt a head tentatively placed on his should a couple of minutes later. He didn’t say anything though, watching as the movie started another fight scene. When the hero shot someone, Ian let out a little hoot of approval, and Mickey snorted.

“You’re so weird,” Mickey teased, but it was obvious from his tone that he found it amusing.

“But I like this part,” Ian said, squeezing Mickey’s thigh quickly to make his point. Mickey squirmed under the touch, catching Ian’s attention at how the reaction was more uncontrollable than Mickey trying to push him off. He squeezed his knee again, this time watching curiously as Mickey’s body twitched away from Ian’s hand. 

“The fuck Gallagher,” Mickey grumbled, tensing from the way he could feel Ian staring at him.

“Are you ticklish Mick?”

Mickey froze. He could see Ian’s grin widening, could feel his large hand on his thigh spreading to curl around his jeans.

“Fuck off,” Mickey warned, but it was too late. Ian gripped Mickey’s thigh once again, this time in short, hard repetitions. Mickey’s reaction was instant, his body once again jerking away from Ian, but the red-head was ready. Pushing himself off the couch, Ian reached around to pin Mickey’s back against the cushions, his hand moving from the Milkovich’s thigh up to poke at his sides. A loud, childish laugh erupted from Mickey, his arms blindly flailing around in a helpless effort to stop the touches. Ian was strong though, his hours of training way more preparation than needed to hold down the smaller boy. Straddling Mickey’s waist to stop his kicking legs, Ian brought his prodding fingers up under the hem of Mickey’s tank top. Running his fingers across the smooth skin of Mickey’s stomach, Ian began flexing his grip into Mickey’s abs, holding off the resulting twitching arms so he could watch Mickey’s reaction.

Mickey’s face was wiped clean of its usual grimace and anger, his eyes instead bordered by deep laugh lines, cheeks a light pint to match to wide, uncontrollable laughter that was filling the previously calm house. As Ian gained control of Mickey’s arms, gripping his wrists in one of his unnaturally large hands, Mickey tried to plead between laughs. 

“Fuck, stop, you fucker,” Mickey gasped, but his efforts were lost on the Gallagher boy. Ian continued to jab at Mickey’s stomach, taking in the innocence of Mickey’s laughter and the complete vulnerability of his body. Who would have guessed that the tough southsider persona could be reduced to giggles from just quick and gentle prodding.

“You’re fucking dead,” Mickey panted out, and Ian laughed at how weak the threat sounded. 

“What’s so funny Mick?” Ian asked, smile large at the amount of control they both knew he had in this situation. 

“Please… stop,” Mickey forced out, his eyes watering and stomach burning from the excessive laughter. A twinge of guilt crept up in Ian from Mickey’s pleads, his grip loosening just enough for Mickey to pull a hand free and shove the unsuspecting Ian backwards. 

Ian hit the arm of the couch with a grunt, falling off of Mickey’s lap enough so he could sit up and straighten his shirt. Their eyes met, and Ian couldn’t help the grin at how completely out of breath the other boy was. 

“Your hair’s a little…” Ian started, reaching up to press down the tufts of Mickey’s hair that were sticking up. Mickey swatted his hand away, running his own fingers through his hair while trying to maintain an angry stare. Ian just smiled wider, scooting forward towards Mickey. The dark-haired boy made no move to push Ian back, but instead focused his eyes on the dangerous hands that were hovering around his knees again. 

“Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” Mickey threatened, but Ian made no move to stop. When one hand made contact with Mickey’s thigh, it was instantly seized by a tight grasp. “I said don’t touch me,” Mickey repeated, but they both knew he didn’t mean it, and when Ian brought his other hand up to cup Mickey’s face, the grip on his wrist relaxed. Ian moved closer, Mickey allowing him to again place his legs on either side of Mickey’s hips. Mickey dropped his grip to run his hand up Ian’s thigh, settling it on his hip. Ian hovered over Mickey, taking in the disappearing look of anger that was quickly being replaced by a more needy stare. Mickey’s cheeks were still flushed from his laughter, and Ian ran his thumbs over them while leaning closer.

“Sorry I tickled you,” Ian whispered lowly, his hot breath sending a shiver through Mickey, who despite knowing Ian didn’t mean it, tightened his grip on Ian’s hips. 

“Just kiss me Ian.”

Nothing else was said as Ian pulled Mickey’s lips to his own, their needy bodies pressing together, a quiet moan escaping Mickey when Ian’s hips met his own.

Their lips continued with urgency, hands gripping tightly, Ian using caution when skimming over Mickey’s sensitive sides so he wouldn’t squirm away. The movie was long forgotten, the room now filled with the sound of jingling belt buckles and shirts hitting the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Please comment and give feedback, I love writing Gallavich so I'll always take prompts! xx


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